Prior to Young Justice
by VenusHeartwood
Summary: Gotham Prison Inmate number 108186; formally known as Belladonna-Trix. The youngest to ever be sent to Gotham's notorious confinement for horrid criminals. While all the criminals who reside there claim to be innocent and that they shouldn't be there, she believes that she does. When an explosion goes off inside the prison, she'll end up being exposed for who, or what, she is...


**Warning:** Self-mutilation in this section. And maybe a curse word. Those who don't feel comfortable may skip the part where you see the bolded asterisks [*] and continue on.

Hope you enjoy~!

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The sound of a deep siren echoing through the facility before the bars sliding automatically opening was what snapped me from my half asleep state. As the noise ended and I willingly stood from my bunk, a man stood outside, waiting patiently. I didn't recognize him at all, for he wasn't the one who usually stood outside. This one had a clean shaven face as well as his head, the other had a trimmed beard and his shoulder length hair gelled back.

"Inmate number 106186, step out of your cell." He ordered, standing with his entire body board straight, chin sticking up with an – almost – air of arrogance.

Without arguing I did as told, shuffling my feet along the metal floor without a care as I stepped out of my cell. I didn't bother with shoes, they didn't feel quite right on my feet – or at least the sneakers that they gave us didn't feel quite right. Normally I would opt for tugging on my slippers when the floors were cold as they were now but, at the moment, I just couldn't give a damn about it. As I padded down the catwalk after the new guard, not paying attention to the other inmates who threw rude remarks at me like they were throwing candy at a parade, I tried pushing some of the hair out of my face, my fingers getting stuck in the knotted mess. Deciding it was best to not mess with it anymore, I let it be, allowing it to fall back in my face and to watch where I walked through some of the tangled thick strands.

Like usual, every time I left my cell during morning meal time, I got shoulder checked. At this point my body was used to it where if I kept both shoulders loose it would be less painful and wouldn't make me receive as many bruises. While the inmates were going to grab food after having slept in their cells all night, I was going to take my special 'happiness in a bottle' like I did every day, court ordered by one of the many corrupt judges in this city.

When we were finally standing in front of the medical wing's infirmary, the guard rapped on the door before pushing it open. As I walked passed him, he decided to close the door right behind me, catching my long hair in it. Easily I pulled it out, hissing when I had to tug a bit hard which pulled slightly at my scalp before it slipped right out of the door jam.

"Ah! Belle! Nice to see you again!" the nurse greeted me kindly as two armed guards stood in the two closest corners of the room, "Please, have a seat!"

Obediently I did so, biting my tongue in order to not correct her on the name as I sat on a short stool that had me fold my long legs up against my chest, knees right underneath my chin. While I watched her get my case file from her lockable filing cabinet, I crossed my arms over my knees then rested my head on them, the hands of sleep trying to grab at me and pull me under.

"So how you doin' Belle?" the brunette asked as she sat my open file in front of her, her usual grin on her face.

I shrugged and watched as she scrawled away on her notepad.

"Feeling anymore nausea, dizziness, headaches or muscle pain?"

I shook my head, my eyes glued to the pen that wrote diligently.

"How 'bout your insomnia and lack of eating, have you gotten those under control yet?"

Again I shook my head.

"Alright," she said as she put her pen down, "Now for the exam. Take your jumpsuit off and stand on the scale."

Standing back on my feet, I unzipped the inmate outfit and pulled my arms out before bending down to remove my legs. After sitting it on the stool I padded over to the metal scale in my tee shirt and underwear that looked close to short shorts, indifferent that two men stood in the room since I had grown accustomed to it after a few years. She walked over, her heels clicking on the concrete before standing to my side, waiting patiently as I stepped onto the contraption and watched as she fiddled with it. Once she had it to where the little beam at the top was sitting horizontally she clicked her tongue in disappointment.

"Another fifteen pounds gone since the last visit…" she muttered to herself.

As I stepped off and walked back over to the stool to put my jumpsuit back on, I heard her clear her throat. With a sigh I dropped it, watching as it crumpled to the floor, and stood back up.

"Arms out." She ordered.

 ****** I held my arms out, palms up, and watched as she inspected each individual horizontal line that travelled from my wrists to my elbows.

"Alright." The woman commented, "Arms down, right leg up."

After letting my arms fall back to my side I placed my feet on the short stool so that the top of my thigh now faced the ceiling instead of the wall. She did the same, examining the white, thin marks that went from mid thigh to my hips, before telling me to do so for the other one, making me switch feet so that my left foot was on the stool. When the brown haired woman checked and allowed me to stand on both of my feet, I thought I was finally done until she made the next command.

"Lift your shirt."

I hesitated for a moment until I sighed and gave in, lifting up the tee shirt to exposed my wrapped stomach. Placing her notepad and pen on the metal desk she kneeled before me and pressed against the crappily wrapped material, making me flinch. She noticed my reaction and immediately began untying the knots. As her fingers made quick work, she was shocked to find that after undoing the last one the ripped cloth began to unravel itself, slipping off me altogether to reveal the angry red lines. She stood up and walked away from me for a second to go to her glass hutch full of medicines, grabbing a pair of tongs, some cotton swabs and the bottle of antiseptic before coming back to me. Kneeling once more she held a puffball against the open bottle, up turned before righting it then used the tongs to rub it across the new angry lines without using her hands, as was medical protocol. ******

"You were doing so well. What happened?" she asked, only to be met with silence that made a disappointed sigh leave her lips as she continued.

Once finished cleaning it, she pressed a thick piece of gauze against my abdomen and used medical tape to keep it on and to keep the air off it.

"Tomorrow morning take it off." She told me as she sat back at her desk and opened her bottom drawer, "Take this and you'll be done."

After opening the prescription bottle she dropped the pill in my hand and watched as I took it without argument. While I shoved my feet and hands through my jumpsuit then zipped it close I began walking away without a word, opening the door when I got to it.

"She is to go eat right now!" the nurse spoke, making sure the guard outside heard her, "Don't let her back in her cell until she has!"

I shut the door behind me and shuffled down the hall after the guard who grumbled under his breath about making sure 'the brat' ate.

Yep, just my usual daily life as a Gotham inmate.

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Sooooooo. How'd you like it? ^w^ Leave comments and/or constructive criticism please.


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